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Ode  to 
The  Russian  People 

JOHN  WILLIAM  SCROLL 


ODE  TO  THE 
RUSSIAN    PEOPLE 

BY 

JOHN  WILLIAM  SCHOLL 

Author  of  "The  Light-Bearer  of  Liberty,  and  other 
poems."  "Social  Tragedies,  and  other  verse,''  etc. 


BOSTON 

The   Poet  Lore   Company 
Publishers 
1907 


Copyright  1907  by  John  William  Scholl 


All  Rights  Reserved 


The  Gorham  Press,  Boston 


it><?  whose  fathers  bravely  fought  and  well 
To  make  our  Freemen's  heritage  secure, 
Shall  we,  the  sons  of  Freedom's  lineage  pure, 
Hedged  in  with  good  dear-bought  by  those  that  fell, 
Forget  in  ease  and  comfort  those  that  dwell 
In  harsher  bonds  and  harder  to  endure? 
Alas,  we  cannot  reach  a  hand  to  cure 
The  crying  evil  or  the  curse  dispel! 

But  we  whose  money-bags  are  loosed  to  send 
Quick  comfort  round  the  world  to  human  need 
When    earthquake,    famine,    fire,    or   flood    has 

wrought, 

Shall  we  not  loose  our  heart-strings,  nobly  spend 
The  hoarded  sympathy  and  cry  '  God  speed   ' 
When  men  grow  free  whom  our  example  taught? 


M191895 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

1 

God's  march  across  the  ages 

Is  sometimes  marked  with  blood. 

Where  righteous  battle  rages 

For  Freedom  and  the  Right, 

There  God  stands  in  His  might 
To  bless  the  purple  flood. 


II 

Whilom  a  figure  rose 

Colossal    mid    the   snows 

With   scepter  and  crown 

Of  old  renown, 

And  ruled  a  mighty  realm 

With  counsels  firm  and  iron  hand 

No  subject  millions  could  overwhelm, 

Nor  yet  withstand, 

But  they  fell  on  their  knees  and  worshiped  rather 

The  crook  that  guided,  the  rod  that  smote, 

And  gathered  from  conquered  lands  remote 

To  kiss  the  hand  of  their  'little  Father' 

In  loyal  love. 

All  lords  above, 

God's  vicar  absolute, 


6         ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

Resistless  to  do  his  people  good, 

And  strong  in  good  repute 

To  save  the  multitude 

From  barren  dreams  and  wild  desires, — 

The  fatal  madness  that  aspires 

To  grasp  the  wheel  of  its  own  fate 

And  guide  the  storm-tossed  Ship  of  State, — 

The  nations,  gazing  from  afar, 

Hailed  him  with  one  accord  the  Great  White  Czar. 

Ill 

A  challenge  came  to  all  the  world: 
"  Let  your  battle-flags  be  furled. 
Stop  your  cannon's  brutal  thunder 
And  undo  the  fatal  blunder 
Of  the  sword's  supreme  appeal. 
Justice  stronger  is  than  steel 
To  protect  the  commonweal. 
Trust  is  more  than  thickest  armor, 
Truth  than  sharp  diplomacy. 
Let  our  peoples'  love  grow  warmer, 
Knit  by  noble  courtesy. 
Cast  aside  your  armaments, 
Meet  in  solemn  parliaments. 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

And  war  shall  cease, 

And    olive-branched    peace 

Shall  wing  her  blessings  over  all  the  lands; 

For  every  throne  that  lofty  stands 

On  piles  of  human  skulls 

Must  totter  and  fall  at  last 

When  the  God  of  hosts  annuls 

Its  charter  with  trumpet  blast.'' 

So  spake  the  Great  White  Czar. 

The  nations  heard  afar, 

And  good  men  dreamed  that  the  hour  had  come 

To  muffle  the  turbulent,  jubilant  drum, 

To  forge  all  swords  into  pruning-hooks, 

To  fashion  spears  into  shepherds'  crooks, 

Remand  the  warrior  to  the  fields 

Where  honest  toil  to  the  eater  yields 

Life-giving  bread 

And  not  death's  harvest  red. 

And  seers  unrolled  the  splendid  vision 
Of  worlds  redeemed  beneath  the  banner 
Of  him  who  stood  in  the  snows 
Colossal  and  white 
With  imperial  might 
And  godlike  manner, 


8         ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

With  a  will  to  conquer  indecision 
And  bring  the  burdened  world  repose. 

And  poets  sang  the  destiny 

Of  the  young-old  land  beyond  the  sea, — 

The  land  of  the  never-backward  step, 

Whose  will,  from  age  to  age  the  same, 

In  high,  imperial  aim, 

Had  balked  at  naught, 

But  ever  onward  kept 

And  bravely  wrought 

Or  doggedly  waited 

Until  the  enemy's  strength  abated, 

And  the  onward  movement,  fated 

As  her  world-historic  role, 

Brought  her  nearer  to  the  goal, 

Nearer  to  the  midland  seas, 

Nearer  to  the  southern  ocean, 

Nearer  to  the  vast  Pacific, 

Whither,  with  splendor  and  pomp  magnific, 

In  prescient  hope  and  high  devotion, 

She  sought  on  open  port, 

A  friendly  beckoning  resort, 

Wide-armed  for  her  burdened  argosies, 

That  her  land-locked  people  might  be  free 

To  share  in  perpetuity 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

The  fruits  of  peace 

Whose  blessings  never  cease. 

And  statesmen,  far-seeing,  wise, 

Men  of  high  emprise, 

Heard  the  challenge  of  peace 

From  their  mighty  neighbor, 

And  gladly  joined  in  the  blessed  labor 

Of  men's  release. 

Only  the  demon  of  distrust 

Grinned  at  the  shapes  of  the  beautiful  dream, 

As  sceptic  demons  ever  must 

In  the  face  of  the  good  supreme. 


IV 

Tis  the  Ideal, 
Not  the  Real, 

Rules  the  world. 
By  the  Ideal, 
Not  the  Real, 

Are  Zeus'  lightnings  hurled. 

The  people's  dream, 
The  people's  will, 


io        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

Are  the  law  supreme 
And  shall  be  still 
With  gathering  strength 
Throughout  the  length 
Of  every  land, 
Till  the  besom  of  doom 
In  God's  right  hand, 
Like  the  dread  simoom 
On  Afric's  strand, 
Shall  sweep  His  handiwork  away 
[jTo  the  consuming  fires  of  the  last  great  day. 

|*J  *I"T 

Enthroned  in  the  consenting  heart 
Of  a  hundred  million  men, 
Incarnate  will  of  the  citizen 
And  symbol  of  justice  and  power, 
Of  purity  in  temple  and  mart, 
Of  wisdom  in  council  and  cabinet, 
The  ruler  stands  an  impregnable  tower, 
With  never  a  cannon  or  bayonet; 
But,  armed  with  exile  and  the  knout, 
Preserved  by  ikons  and  amulets, 
And  safely  hedged  all  round  about 
With   Cossack  sabers  and  bayonets, 
Intrenched  in  formal  power, 
The  Past's  unquestioned  dower, 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        n 

The  sceptered  autocrat 
Is  reft  of  glory  and  shorn  of  strength 
When  his  subject  millions  behold  at  length 
In  him  the  oligarch's  pliant  tool, 
The  royal  cat's-paw  of  misrule, 
The  symbol  of  robbery  and  death, 
Of  darkness  and  famine  and  evil  fame, 
Of  bloody  horrors  without  a  name 
That  nations  point  the  finger  at 
And    hold   their   breath. 

The  stable  throne 
Is  based  alone 

On  perfect  trust. 
Only  his  reign 
Can  long  remain 

Whose  rule  is  just. 


How  are  the  mighty  falling! 

A  crowned  anachronism 

Is  brought  before  Time's  judgment  bar. 

A  lingering  Christian  despotism, 

The  last  and  most  appalling, 


12       ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

Is  tried  at  length  by  fire 

And  stands  convicted  of  the  mad  desire 

Of  lawless  conquest  and  unholy  war. 

A  nation's  truth  and  honor  plighted, 

By  greed  and  mad  ambition  blighted, 

Has  opened  eyes  to  see  and  know 

Her  pride  brought  low 

In  splendid  woe; 

For  the  figure  that  whilom  rose 

Majestic  mid  the  snows 

And  wore  a  crown 

Of  old  renown 

Has  forfeited  his  good  repute 

And  stands  a  beggar  destitute, 

Still  crowned  in  awful  irony, 

But  weak  and  fearful  as  a  frightened  child 

That  looks  into  the  darkness  with  the  wild 

Wide  eyes  of  sightless  speechless  fear, 

Foreboding  still  some  evil  near. 

What  subtle  mockery 

Of  power  imperial ! 

What  better  is  a  crown  than  cap  and  bells 

When  royal  will  dwells  not  below  ? 

What  fatal  lies  the  ermine  tells 

Whose  ample  snow 

Enwraps  within  its  costly  folds 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE       13 

The  cowering  form  of  one  that  holds 

A  scepter  aimless, 

With  nerveless  hand  though  blameless! 

When  Caesar's  throne  is  the  symbol  of  greed 

And  not  of  help  in  utmost  need, 

Of  gloom  funereal 

And  not  of  life  and  freshening  light 

That  lead  men  out  of  death  and  night, 

No  magic  word  nor  mystic  rite 

Can  force  due  reverence. 

The  lie,  the  weakness,  and  the  fear, 

The  want  of  heart  and  honest  sense, 

The  cowardly  semblance  of  reform, 

The  temporizing  with  the  storm, 

Are  swift  forerunners  of  the  world's  cold  sneer. 

Mad  business  this  to  let  an  empire's  reins 

Slip  to  the  hands  of  reckless  dukes 

Who  rule  or  ruin  for  golden  gains. 

Such  deeds  invite  the  mamelukes 

To  sweep  their  masters  from  the  throne  of  statete. 

And  found  new  dynasties  wth  the  consent  of  fate 

What  boots  an  open  sea 

When  bought  with  perjury  ? 

What  boots  a  wide  domain, 

Where  fear  alone  can  long  maintain 

A  barren  and  inglorious  reign  ? 


i4        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

Not  lands,  but  men,  true  men, 

The  patriot  wise,  the  clear-eyed  citizen, 

Can  make  a  nation  great 

And  stay  the  hand  of  fate, 

When  foes  are  at  the  gate. 

How  are  the  mighty  falling! 

O  crowned  anachronism, 

Most  Christian  despotism, 

Thy  fate  is  most  appalling! 

Dishonored  at  Time's  judgment  bar, 

Guilty  of  lawless  and  unholy  war, 

Bankrupt  in  heart,  and  whelmed  with  fatal  care, 

Defeated,  driven  to  despair, — 

The  nations  look  on  from  afar 

And  hail  no  more  the  Great  White  Czar. 


VI 


O  patriot  people,  thy  hour  is  come! 

The  autumn  to  thy  blood-sown  fields 

A  late  but  precious  harvest  yields. 

Your  hands  with  bootless  toil  are  numb, 

Your  bruised  hearts  ache  with  the  nameless  woe 

Of  beasts  o'erdriven  that  know  not  why 

They  waste  beneath  the  lash  and  die; 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

Yet  rise,  O  burdened  people,  show 

Thy  prophet  voices  are  not  unheard, 

Unheeded  the  new  heroic  word 

That  rings  and  sings  throughout  the  land! 

O  people  of  the  Untried  Dream, 

Our  hopes  and  prayers  are  with  the  band 

Of  stalwart  heroes  that  withstand 

The  onward  current  of  ancient  wrong, 

And  swear  that  it  shall  not  prolong 

Its  curse  beyond  this  hour  supreme. 

Thy  dream  is  worthy,  O  patient  race. 

Beware,  lest  patience  dream  too  long 

Until  the  precious  hours  of  grace 

Are  gone  forever!     Rise!     Be  strong! 

Pluck  now  the  fruits  of  strength  and  live. 

No  Caesar  ever  deigned  to  give 

His  subjects  freedom.     Ye  cannot  kneel 

Before  the  anointed  tyrant's  throne 

And  win  your  rights  by  meek  appeal. 

The  answer  is  ever  lead  and  steel. 

Ye  cannot  sit  and  sigh  or  moan 

O'er  wrongs  endured  or  rights  denied, 

And  hope  that  Caesar  will  e'er  disown 

A  single  act  once  ratified, 

For  sympathy 

With  moaning  misery. 


16        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

The  world  can  hear  you  and  sympathize, 

But  Caesar  cannot  hear  your  cries. 

A  ducal  chorus  about  the  throne 

With  greedy  clamors  drowns  your  moan. 

Lie  not  supine, 

But  rise  at  length 

In  manhood's  conscious  strength, 

And  scale  the  heaven  of  your  own  desires, 

To  fetch  true  manhood's  purest  fires 

From  altars  of  liberty  divine, 

To  light  your  glorious  path 

Out  of  this  labyrinth  of  night  and  woe, 

That  with  just  and  guiltless  wrath 

And  without  ignoble  scath 

You  may  strike  the  fated  blow. 

Be  one,  O  mighty  people,  one, 

In  heart  and  hope  and  purpose  one, 

And  wrest  your  rights  with  stainless  hands! 

Be  one!     Be  strong!     Your  right  hands  clasp 

In  Freedom's  glorious  brotherhood 

Which  tyrants  never  yet  withstood! 

Be  one!     Be  strong!     For  want  of  unity 

Hath  ever  been  your  tyrant's  opportunity. 

And  if  your  new-found  liberty 

Is  ever  wrested  from  your  grasp, 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        17 

'  Twill  be  alone  when  mad  Disunion 

With  Faction  in  unblest  communion 

Shall  call  some  mighty  man  of  destiny 

To  spur  his  charger  through  your  futile  ranks 

And  tread  you  down  to  abject  slavery. 

Be  one,  O  mighty  people,  one! 

Be  strong  to  smite,  but  wise  to  shun 

The  errors  of  an  earlier  time, 

The  madness  of  a  southern  clime. 

From  Caesar's  shipwreck  seize  the  scattered  planks 

And  build  anew  your  ship  of  state, 

And  pilot  her  through  rocks  and  shoals 

To  stormless  havens!     He  whose  arm  controls 

All  fates,  shall  make  and  keep  your  nation  great. 


VII 


What  constitutes  a  state  ? 

A  grand  monarque  and  a  Richelieu, 
And  ranks  of  grands  and  cardinals,  too, 
A  court  of  flattering  parvenus, 
The  struggling  tiers  etat  suppressed, 
And  the  people,  a  patient  ass,  oppressed 
With  the  triple  load,  king,  baron,  and  priest  ? 

These  constitute  a  state  ? 


1 8        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

What  constitutes  a  state  ? 

An  imbecile  king  and  a  cabinet, 

A  House  of  Lords  and  a  Royal  Gazette, 

A  rotten  Commons, — a  cringing  set, — 

Church  tithes  and  war  taxes,  a  constitution, — 

An   undigested   divine  confusion, — 

And  human  rights  a  d d  illusion  ? 

These  constitute  a  state  ? 

What  constitutes  a  state  ? 

An  ocean  of  madness  loosed  and  surging, 
The  Darkness  out  of  his  deeps  emerging, 
The  brute  red  hand  at  the  task  of  purging, 
And  silks  and  laces,  the  thing  unclean, 
And  Freedom  a  god  with  rites  obscene, 
The  spouse  of  Freedom  the  guillotine  ? 

These  constitute  a  state  ? 

What  constitutes  a  state  ? 

A  faded  parchment  a  century  old, 

The  names  of  patriot  dead  enrolled, 

A  Fourth  of  July  and  omnipotent  gold, 

Old  Glory,  and  hunger,  the  clamoring  masses, 

'One  man,  one  vote,'  and  the  warring  of  classes, 

And  bosses  to  muzzle  and  drive  the  asses  ? 

These  constitute  a  state  ? 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        19 

What  constitutes  a  state  ? 

'  Tis  a  bough  of  the  world-old  Igdrasil 

With  the  sap  of  the  ages  a-flowing  still, 

And  budding  in  wisdom  and  blooming  in  will, 

And  fruiting  in  deeds  of  the  mighty  and  wise, 

With  a  shadow  as  broad  as  the  wide  blue  skies, 

Where  worth  from  unworth  may  struggle  and  rise. 

This  constitutes  a  state. 

What  constitutes  a  state  ? 

O  never  a  God-  or  man-made  thing 
Come  forth  out  of  night  at  a  single  spring, 
And  naught  can  stifle  its  bourgeoning. 
And  what  though  the  ancient  branches  die 
And  crash  as  the  whirlwind  fates  speed  by  ? 
There  are  new  buds  shooting  up  nearer  the  sky. 

This  constitutes  a  state. 


VIII 

In  whose  will  doth  the  state  reside  ? 
In  whose  might  doth  the  law  abide  ? 

In  his,  who  by  the  accident 
Of  royal  birth  and  mute  consent 


20        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

All  private  wills  doth  override? 

God's  ban  is  on  the  imperial  race. 

No  royal  dream  nor  proud  ukase 

Can  set  at  naught  the  primal  law 

That  great  men  dwindle  in  their  sons 

And  perish  in  the  third  degree 

Of  their  depraved  posterity: 

That  genius  through  swift  cycles  runs 

From  wretched  hovel  and  bed  of  straw 

To  palace  and  throne,  to  purple  and  power, 

Then  back  again  in  evil  hour 

To  hide  its  shamed  gentility 

In  rags  and  deep  humility. 

'Twas  ever  thus  that  men  grew  free. 

For  they  who  strive  to  contravene 

Life's  surging  from  its  mystic  deeps, 

Its  ebbing  unto  levels  mean 

Are  like  King  Knut  beside  the  sea 

Who  bade  the  tides  no  farther  creep. 

Or  doth  the  imperial  will  alone 

Its  mandates  and  decrees  make  known 

By  popular  majorities  ? 

Ten  thousand  peasants,  dull,  oppressed, 

On  whom  the  empire's  burdens  rest, 

Who  look  with  resignation  dull, 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        21 

Upon  their  birthright  void  and  null, 
In  whom  the  genius  of  their  race 
No  spark  of  aspiration  laid, 
But  like  dumb  cattle  dully  made 
Each  like  to  each,  without  a  trace 
Of  selfhood  human  and  distinct, 
Of  reason  with  the  great  gods  linked, 
Can  these  ten  thousand  sightless  pawns 
For  whom  no  fated  vision  dawns, 
Can  these  be  God's  authorities, 
The  faithful  over  a  few  things 
Held  worthy  of  the  throne  of  kings  ? 

One  mighty  heart  is  more  than  they. 
One  prophet  soul  doth  all  outweigh. 
For  he  shall  rule  who  hath  the  power 
To  guide  his  flock  and  not  devour. 

In  whose  will  doth  the  state  abide  ? 
In  whose  might  doth  the  law  reside  ? 

In  theirs  who  dare  to  conquer  and  reign, 
The  mighty  synod  of  heart  and  brain 
Whose  labors  still  the  state  maintain, 
The  host  of  spirits  choice  and  brave 
Who  ride  today  the  crest  of  the  wave, 


22        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

Tossed  up  by  the  heaving  of  the  main 
No  special  order  of  wealth  or  birth 
In  fixed  caste  shall  rule  the  earth, 
But  they  who  scorning  meaner  things 
Give  transient  deeds  immortal  wings. 
Anointed  daysmen  of  the  King  of  kings. 

How  hath  the  state  solidity  r 
How  hath  the  law  validity  ? 

By  virtue  of  Cossack  sabre-stroke, 

Siberian  exile,  noisome  choke 

Of  prison  mines  ?     Or  all  the  terrors 

That  sceptered  might  is  armed  withal  ? 

Or  must  perforce  all  men  obey 

Because  the  good  and  just  hold  sway  ? 

'Twere  doubly  blest,  O  poor  oppressed, 

To  live  and  die  at  their  behest, 

To  bear  the  petty  burden  of  their  errors 

And  share  the  ample  life  they  bring  to  all. 

And  yet  the  God  of  nations  is  a  god  of  hosts. 

His  care  is  ever  for  the  multitude. 

From  these  by  devious  ways  scarce  understood, 

At  times  that  baffle  human  reckoning, 

He  raises  prophet,  statesman,  priest,  or  king, 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        23 

As  seemeth  best.     And  when  these  leave  their 

posts, 

Not  wholly  worthy  of  His  awful  trusts, 
With  silent  hand  and  swift  He  surely  thrusts 
The  faithless  stewards  from  their  lofty  seats, 
And  raises  men  of  low  degree 
To  rule  His  people  and  to  set  them  free. 
Thus  evermore  God's  hand  repeats 
The  miracle  of  human  destiny. 

The  multitude  is  God's  great  surging  sea, 
His  reservoir  of  spirit  energy, 
From  which  the  nations'  destinies  arise. 
And  whoso  strives  to  muffle  the  dull  cries 
Of  peasant  millions,  or  the  workshop's  hordes, 
Is  striving  'gainst  his  own  foredoomed  lords, 
To  shut  the  living  God  from  history. 

The  welfare  of  His  millions  is  God's  test  of  states, 
And  bursting  bombs  and  swift  death-dealing  blows, 
His  rude  and  bloody  vengement  when  unblessed 

fates 
His  cloud  of  witnesses  have  crushed  to  brute  repose. 


24        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 
IX 

Too  bitter  and  too  long 

The  deep  ancestral  wrong, 

Too  halting  and  too  late 

The  scheme  to  palliate, 

And  stay  the  hand  of  sullen  hate. 

No  flood  e'er  burst  its  dam 

With  current  calm  and  undisturbed, 

But  seething  and  roaring, 

In  cataracts  pouring, 

It  sweeps  down  the  valley 

With  might  resistless 

Till  by  its  own  ruin  balked  and  curbed; 

E'en  then  but  a  moment  listless 

It  leaps  again  with  mighty  rally 

And  plows  through  the  jam 

Till  far  down  the  plain 

It  gathers  again 

And  flows  no  longer  errant, 

But  forms  a  majestic  current, 

Whose  broad  unruffled  bosom  bears 

In  mirrored  beauty  through  prospering  airs 

A  hundred  freighted  argosies 

In  safety  to  the  quiet  seas. 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        25 

Build  the  dam  of  your  despotism 

As  deep  and  broad  as  you  may, 

The  human  floods  will  o'ertop  it  quite 

And  plunge  it  down  in  an  hour  of  fright. 

Though  built,  O  Caesar,  to  stand  for  aye, 

Some  day  must  see  the  cataclysm. 

The  office  of  light  is  to  shine. 

'Tis  vain  that  you  draw  a  line 

And  say:  "Within  this  bound 

Darkness  shall  dwell,"  while  all  around 

The  dawn  is  rising  clear  and  white. 

'Tis  vain  you  decree  an  endless  night 

When  light  reflected  from  a  thousand  peaks 

Is  streaming  in  your  valleys  low, 

And  all  the  heavens  with  their  gorgeous  streaks 

Bid  darkness  and  the  deeds  of  darkness  go. 

The  office  of  thought  is  to  leap 

From  brain  to  brain,  from  soul  to  soul, 

Its  unseen  silent  pace  to  keep 

Until  it  has  leavened  the  whole. 

'Tis  vain  that  you  draw  a  line 

And  say:  "Thus  far  the  divine 

Promethean  fire  shall  kindle, 

And  beyond  its  flame  shall  dwindle 


26        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

And  cease  at  last  to  burn, 

And  men  to  beasts  return. " 

For  heavenly  fire  is  never  quenched 

When  kindled  in  one  patriot  soul, 

Though  limb  from  limb  is  rudely  wrenched 

And  martyr  fires  consume  him 

Or  hurled  stones  entomb  him. 

The  end  may  be  far, 

But  fixed  as  a  star 

Is  the  far-seen  goal; — 

Freedom  without  a  flaw, 

Freedom  girded  with  law. 

Too  bitter  and  too  long 

Is  the  deep  ancestral  wrong. 

Horror  shall  rear  her  Cimmerian  brood, 

But  out  of  horror  shall  come  forth  good. 

Then  welcome  the  gory  flood! 

Welcome  the  deluge  of  blood, 

When  Madness  makes  a  way 

For  Freedom's  glorious  day! 

Too  little  faith  have  we  who  shrink 

From  plunging  when  we  reach  the  brink, 

Though  knowing  that  the  farther  shore 

Shall  know  such  horrors  nevermore. 

Welcome  the  deluge,  if  it  come! 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        27 

Shout  for  Victory!     Be  not  dumb! 
Pray  to  the  God  of  life  and  light 
For  Victory  to  the  Right! 

f^'l 


For  whose  glory  will  you  fight, 

O  legions  of  St.  Peter's  land  ? 

For  the  People  ?     For  the  Right  ? 

Or  that  oligarchic  band 

That  overwhelm 

Your  sacred  realm  ? 

What    victor's    crown, 

What  fair  renown 
Is  won  by  shooting  brethren  down  ? 

Make  firm  the  tyrant's  rule, 

And  be  his  bloody  tool, 

And  then  his  suppliant  fool, 

When  all  too  late  the  firm-wrought  chain 

Hath  rendered  every  struggle  vain. 

He  stalks  in  martial  pride  along  your  lines 

And  smiles  his  royal  thanks, 

And  holds  before  your  serried  ranks 


28       ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

His  infant  heir  to  serve  his  deep  designs. 

A  little  child  should  stir  men  unto  peace, 

To  love  and  love's  increase, 

And  not  to  fratricidal  war. 

Is  it  a  thing  to  battle  for, 

That  a  Romanoff  smiled, 

And  a  little  child 

Looked  wide-eyed  wonder  as  you  passed  ? 

Would    that   the   Rubicon   were   crossed,  the   die 

were  cast! 

O  that  you  felt  for  one  brief  hour 
That  Russia's  welfare,  Russia's  power 
Is  something  nobler  than  a  Romanoff's  dower! 

But  woe  to  her  children,  and  woe  to  her  lords, 
When  Russia's  scourged  by  her  Cossack  hordes, 
Who,  faithful  to  bloodshed  and  horrors  alone, 
Would   slaughter  their   kinsmen   to   strengthen    a 
throne. 

Sad  fate  theirs  to  do  and  die 

Nameless  and  fameless, 
Sternly  their  trade  to  ply, 

Warring  so  shameless. 

O  that  their  story 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        29 

Might  share  in  the  glory 

Of  Russia  freed! 

O  that  a  grateful  people, 

From  every  jubilant  steeple, 

Might  fling  their  praise 

On  every  wind 

To  all  mankind! 

In  proud  forefeeling  of  that  ample  day 

Our  confident  hearts  exult  and  say: 

O  people  of  the  Untried  Dream,  'God  speed!' 

XI 

What  means  this  dark  and  treacherous  hint 
That  Russia's  voice  shall  be  stifled  yet  ? 
Does  he  who  promised  without  stint, 
(His  son  upon  a  stable  throne  to  set, 
And  quell  rebellion  and  insurgent  hate 
And  spare  himself  a  tyrant's  luckless  fate,) 
Of  his  imperial  and  unchanging  will, 
To  make  her  counsels  henceforth  law  supreme, 
Does  he,  forsooth,  because  his  Cossacks  still 
With  brethren's  blood  intoxicated  kill, 
Presume  to  reinstate  the  old  regime  ? 


30        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

Audacity  beyond  the  world's  belief 

And  perfidy — God  bring  him  soon  to  grief 

Whose  counsel  turns  the  promise  to  a  lie\ 

The  Romanoff's  hard  fate  it  is  to  try 

His  subjects'  all  too  fond  fidelity 

Beyond  endurance.     May  their  will  be  sped, 

And  God  preserve  him  lest  he  lose  his  head! 

Once  more  the  stern  old  lesson  has  been  taught 

That  freedom  but  by  vigilance  is  bought. 

O  Russia,  be  no  longer  duped  and  fooled, 

But  say,  the  right  to  rule  lies  with  the  ruled, 

And  saying,  dare  maintain  the  mighty  truth, 

And  seal  it  with  your  blood,  if  needs  must  be 

That  tyrants  choose  the  sword's  arbitrament 

To  urge  in  mad  despair  the  outworn  plea 

Of  right  divine  to  rule  the  brave  and  free. 

O  rise  and  smite  and  prove  in  very  sooth 

That  ye  are  men  for  any  argument. 

So  long  as  Caesar  gives  you  liberty, 

So  long  his  royal  gift  may  be  withdrawn 

To  please  a  courtier's  whimsy  or  his  own, 

And  ye  are  free — to  bear  his  tyranny! 

But  if  ye  take  it  with  the  hand  of  power 

'Tis  yours  forever  and  your  children's  dower! 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        31 
XII 

At  last,  ye  patience-tried,  at  last 

The  night  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp  is  past. 

Ye  know  him  now  for  what  he  was  and  is, 

The  plaything  of  the  awful  destinies! 

He  doffs  the  imperial  mask  with  his  own  hand 

And  shows  his  face,  that  all  may  understand 

His  utter  scorn  of  Russia's  hopes  and  prayers. 

Behold  a  weakling  toiling  in  the  snares 
Of  greedy  faction,  hurled  from  act  to  act 
By  base  intrigue  whose  hand  is  never  slacked, 
A  royal  shuttle-cock  beat  to  and  fro 
'Twixt  mortal  fear  and  timid  confidence, 
An  ermined  coward  trembling  at  the  blow 
That  soon  shall  end  his  purple  impotence! 
Or,  if  not  weakling,  then  behold  a  foe, 
With  sops  of  lies  to  keep  you  in  suspense 
Until  his  thunders  can  be  forged  anew 
To  hurl  Promethean  doom  on  yours  and  you! 

He  calls  your  leaders  into  parliament 
To  be  his  eyes  and  hands — the  instrument 
Of  his  unchanging  grace — to  see  your  need 
And  execute  your  will  with  seemly  speed, 


32        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

And  vows,  henceforth  no  law  shall  be  decreed 
But  by  their  prescient  voices  freely  given. 
Your  bonds,  O  mighty  people,  now  are  riven! 

Alas!     The  cloven  hoof  of  despotism 

Is  boldly  thrust  from  out  the  ermine's  fold. 

The  sightless  demon  of  imperialism 

Refuses  to  release  his  blighting  hold 

On  Russia's  bleeding  throat.     Too  late,  too  late, 

O  Czar,  thy  manifest  shall  prove  thy  fate! 

Canst  thou  prorogue  a  people's  parliament  ? 
Canst  thou  alone  decree  the  empire's  laws  ? 
Canst  thou  defeat  a  people's  high  intent 
And  render  null  and  void  each  several  clause 
That  guarantees  their  freedom  ?     Canst  thou  make 
And  unmake  councils,  courts,  and  cabinets  ? 
Thy  creatures  thwart  the  people's  will  and  break 
Each  several  pledge  ?     Thy  cunning  hand  abets 
This  monstrous  deed,  this  most  colossal  crime 
Of  throttling  a  new  birth  of  laggard  Time  ? 
Throw  down  the  gauntlet!     They  shall  take  it  up, 
And  when  thou  drinkest  wine  again,  red  blood  shall 
fill  the  cup. 

n 

The  English  Stuart  was  a  babe  in  craft, 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        33 

A  tyro  in  the  arts  of  perfidy. 
O  had  young  Russia  drunk  a  healing  draught 
From  England's  gushing  springs  of  liberty, 
She  too  had  risen  in  time  of  utmost  need 
And  fought  long  since  her  gallant  Runnymede! 
She  too  would  rise  again  in  conscious  might 
And  bare  her  mighty  arm  her  foe  to  smite, 
And  call  her  waiting  Cromwell  from  the  plow 
To  guide  her  destiny  and  save  her  now. 

O  shall  it  be  in  vain,  that  Freedom's  dream 
Betokened  sunrise  ?     Shall  the  hour  supreme, 
The  vital  need  a  puny  people  find, 
A  race  unworthy  of  the  task  assigned  ? 


XIII 

Not  in  a  day, 

O  not  in  a  day  good  friends, 

The  victorious  struggle  ends, 

Nor  ever  may 

Till  Freedom  and  Right 

Are  Law  and  Might 

Throughout  the 


34        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

O  not  in  a  day, 

Not  in  a  day,  good  friends, 

The  destined  conflict  ends, 

But  through  long  failure  and  defeat 

The  victor's  crown  is  made  more  sweet, 

Its  touch  more  bland 

To  patriot  brows! 

Long  be  the  struggle,  sweet  the  patriot's  rest, 
When  victory  comes  to  the  oppressed, 
When  hate  is  quenched  within  the  subject's  breast 

As  the  tyrant  cows, 

And  the  victor  can  be  just 

To  fallen  crownless  dust. 


XIV 

The  pregnant  moment  nears, 

Heavy  with  hopes  and  fears, 

That  shall  thrill  the  world  to  cheers 

Or  loosen  a  chorus  of  sneers. 

All  eyes  are  strained  to  watch, 

All  ears  are  bent  to  catch, 

The  first  swift  sign  of  kindling  light, 

The  first  prophetic  word  of  might. 

If  any  dreamed  that  like  a  sluggish  beast 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE       35 

The  patient  Russ  would  sleep  beneath  the  lash, 

His  foolish  dream  is  broken 

By  the  potent  word  now  spoken. 

From  Finland  to  the  utmost  East, 

From  arctic  seas  to  Euxine's  sunny  shore 

Hath  passed  that  elemental  flash 

Of  mighty  hope,  and  tyranny  shall  be  no  more. 

Come  together,  ye  brave  elect, 
Charged  with  powers  to  build  a  realm 
Higher  than  party  and  broader  than  sect, 
That  storms  of  fate  shall  not  overwhelm. 

Come  to  your  old  historic  hall, 
Scholar  and  artisan,  peasant  and  prince, 
Come  to  answer  your  people's  call 
With  courage  Caesar  to  convince 
That  fate  stands  garbed  as  a  citizen. 
Speak  with  sober  might  like  men 
Who  know  their  duty,  and  knowing  dare 
To  royal  ears  the  truth  declare. 

And  when  your  imperial  Peeping  Tom 
With  eye  alarmed  peeps  through  some  chink, 
Let  him  behold  you  grave  and  calm, 
Like  men  who  nobly  act  and  think 
With  heart  set  singly  on  stable  good, 


36        ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

Far-looking  peace  for  the  multitude. 

And  if  his  startled  ear  is  held 

To  hear  fate's  syllables  outspelled 

By  prophet  lips,  perchance  impelled 

To  ghastly  martyrdom,  O  let  him  hear 

The  people's  mandate,  void  of  fear. 

Speak  loud  that  he  may  catch  the  note 

Above  the  clamors  of  Reaction's  throat 

That  bawls  incessant  in  baffled  rage 

To  drown  the  voice  of  Freedom's  host. 

Democracy,  throw  down  thy  gage 

And  dare  all  Hell  into  the  lists! 

The  day  is  thine  whate'er  the  cost, 

And  dawnlight  breaking  through  the  mists 

Will  show  God's  recompense  for  what  was  lost. 

And  if  his  Cossacks  summon  at  the  door 
To  quench  thy  light  forevermore, 
Remember  to  what  end  thy  seers  were  sent! 
Our  English  Charles  once  had  a  parliament! 


XV 

Not  yet,  alas!  not  yet 

The  sun  of  tyranny  is  set. 

The  twilight  gathers  round  the  throne, 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        37 

But  when  the  hour  of  night  comes  on 
What  prophet  dare  predict  the  dawn  ? 

"  Somewhat  have  I  against  thee,  too," 
The  apocalyptic  angel  saith: 
"  I  know  thy  works,  what  thou  wouldst  do, 
I  know  thy  hopes,  the  tangled  clue 
Thou  seekest  in  this  night  of  dread. 
Behold,  thou  seekest  only  bread! 
And  when  thy  starving  sons  are  fed, 
Canst  thou  with  sweet  abundance  filled 
Still  strike  for  freedom  with  holy  passion, 
For  her  still  burn  with  quenchless  zeal, 
Still  struggle  valiantly  to  fashion 
The  bulwarks  of  the  commonweal, 
To  consummate  what  thou  hast  willed  ? 

Thou  wouldst  be  free!     Then  be  indeed! 
All  men  will  waft  thee  fairest  speed. 
The  bondage  of  thy  ancient  faith 
Cast  off  as  gyves,  ere  thou  indue 
The  sacred  vestments  of  the  free! 
Some  loftier  vision  of  God  must  shake 
Thy  soul  to  inner  freedom  ere  thou  wake 
To  see  how  arduous  Freedom's  rites, 
How  jealous  and  how  stern  is  she, 


38       ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

How  swift  she  helps,  how  sure  she  smites 
When  to  her  altars  men  are  true. 
No  land  can  live  half  bond,  half  free, 
In  bond  to  mitre,  freed  from  crown, 
When  crown  and  mitre  needs  must  be 
The  symbol  of  God's  firm  unity! 
Then  cast  the  double  despot  down! 

God  speaks  no  more  through  crowned  kings, 
And  mitered  priests,  of  sacred  things. 
He  dwells  in  every  conscious  soul, 
He  speaks  by  word,  He  works  by  deed 
To  fashion  worlds,  to  stake  their  goal, 
And  nations  to  His  purpose  lead. 

Thou  wouldst  be  free  ?     Then  be  indeed! 
God  speaks  not  through  anointed  kings 
And  priests,  and  yet  of  sacred  things 
He  speaks,  and  blessed  they  who  hear 
And  answer  to  His  summons  clear. 
Yet  some  there  be  among  thy  sons 
Who  deem  that  law  is  freedom's  foe! 
Behold,  for  these  no  fresh  hopes  glow, 
No  thread  of  gold  and  purple  runs 
In  splendor  through  the  web  of  life, 
But  ever  with  God  and  fate  at  strife, 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE        39 

So  doomed  in  sad  futility 
To  chafe  in  bonds  they  cannot  break, 
To  feel  a  thirst  they  cannot  slake, 
They  dash  their  strength  incessantly 
Against  the  granite  of  the  crag, 
With  hearts  that  never  faint  or  flag 
In  false  rebellion  counted  liberty! 

Thou  swearest  loud,  thou  wouldst  be  free, 

And  yet  thou  canst  not  clearly  see 

A  brother  in  the  ancient  race 

Whose  loins  brought  forth  the  saintly  one 

Whose  martyred  days  so  swiftly  run 

For  love's  sweet  sake  in  Galilee, 

But  spittest  in  his  guiltless  face, 

And  plottest  horrors  of  blood  and  shame 

Beyond  the  tongue  of  man  to  name! 

Thou  wouldst  be  free  ?     Then  be  indeed! 
The  hearts  of  distant  peoples  plead, 
Crush  out  that  black  drop  from  thy  blood, 
That  life's  red  tide  of  love  may  flood 
Thy  civic  heart  and  wholly  cleanse 
That  fen  of  blight  and  pestilence!" 


40       ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN  PEOPLE 

O  speed  the  light  to  those  in  night! 
Turn  beasts  of  burden  into  men, 
And  our  best  hopes  shall  burn  again, 
Our  faith  shall  turn  at  last  to  sight. 

Not  yet,  alas!  not  yet 

The  sun  of  tyranny  is  set, 

But  swift  as  doom 

The  deepest  gloom 

Shall  whiten  into  radiant  dawn! 

Somehow,  sometime, 

If  thou  but  dare, 

As  sure  as  God's  will  marches  on 

Triumphant   still   in   every  clime, 

Thy  future  olgry  shall  fulfill  our  prayer! 


XVI 

God's  march  across  the  ages 

Is  sometimes  marked  with  blood. 

When  righteous  battle  rages 

For  Freedom  and  the  trampled  Right, 

There  God  stands  in  His  ample  might 
To  bless  the  purple  flood. 


ODE  TO  THE  RUSSIAN    PEOPLE     41 

God's  march  across  the  ages 

Is  sometimes  marked  with  scourge. 
But  where  His  spirit  rages 
In  ocean-swell,  in  earthquake  lift, 
In  tempest  shock,  or  plague's  unthrift, 

We  feel  His  upward  urge. 

God  marches  through  the  ages, 

His  march  is  evolution. 
But  when  the  tyrant  rages, 
And  sets  his  hand  against  God's  will, 
To  thwart  His  providence,  lo!  still 

His  name  is  REVOLUTION! 


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